The Strange Case of the Misplaced Mary Sue
by Crescent Moon Dancer
Summary: Sometimes, being in the wrong story can make all the difference in the world. Starring: an unusual Medieval!Sue, a crazed Legolas, a fuzzy caterpillar, and copious amounts of garlic water.


"What? Another one?!"

"How do they keep getting here?"

"How do we get rid of them?"

"Can we send it back?"

"What do you suppose it'll take to kill it?"

Such were the whispers of the alarmed Company of Nine Walkers as they observed, from their various hiding places, the breathtakingly beautiful apparition that was wandering around about a hundred yards away. Either she had not yet observed the frantic questers, or she had and was, for some doubtlessly malicious motive, pretending she hadn't. At the moment, she was wandering in circles in a field at the edge of the woods where the Company was hidden, singing quietly to herself and tossing her long, lustrous, chestnut hair. Legolas and Aragorn, whose hearing was sharper than the rest of their companions, could hear her high, clear voice as she soared through the notes of a song - something about a ship sailing and a chap named Arthur. They didn't know what it was all about, and they couldn't have cared less.

Peering from between the leaves of the tree where he had hastily concealed himself, Pippin accidentally inhaled a very small, very fuzzy, very startled caterpillar. His eyes widened, (Pippin's, not the caterpillar's,) and his face contorted horribly as he felt the desperate need to sneeze, or cough, or clear his throat, or _something!_ Even the smallest sound, however, would alert the vile creature to their presence, as the young hobbit knew only too well.

Oh, how well he knew it.

Boromir, noting the youngster's distress, quickly and stealthily slithered his way over from his own tree and pressed the hobbit's face to his shoulder, stifling any noise Pippin made in his doublet. Pippin, for his part, took the opportunity to cough, quietly but violently, almost sending himself and his alarmed companion out the tree. The foliage rustled treacherously, and a few smaller branches, completely insensitive to the Company's plight, crashed down through the arbor with a great deal of pomp and circumstance.

Out in the meadow, the young girl stopped singing and looked up, her fair face blazing with delight.

Legolas, uncomfortably folded up in a convenient bush, profusely cursed in Elvish as the maiden ran towards the hiding places of the companions, her shiny hair and white dress streaming behind her in the most attractive way possible.

"Forsooth!" she cried as she approached - way more rapidly than Aragorn and Legolas would have liked, "is this the Company of Nine Walkers? Why doth thou conceal thyselves from the presence of a harmless maid?"

Resigned to their fate, the questers crawled, climbed, dropped, and wriggled out of their various hiding places, lining up in front of what was clearly a Medieval!Sue and glaring at her with expressions that ranged from slight sheepishness to fury to downright hate.

Despised as she was, only Gimli was bold enough to step forth, blunt-fingered hand wrapped meaningfully around his axe, and declare, "Because, forsooth, you're greatly unwelcome here, witch!

Thou and thou's kind dost greatly infesteth our fair land, and throweth thouselves irrepressibly on some of the denizens thereof, most notably my companions. Forsooth. "

Infuriatingly, the "witch" laughed, apparently completely unperturbed by his hostile tone. "Faith, noble dwarf, but thou hast a long way to come ere thou master the olde fashioned jargon of my world," she said, her eyes twinkling. In spite of himself, Aragorn relaxed - that is, he slightly loosened his death grip on Anduril's hilt.

 _'At least this one does not claim to hail from Arda, and she has a sense of humor,'_ he thought, almost relieved.

Almost.

Squaring his shoulders, the Ranger stepped forward, eyeing the beautiful girl with suspicious unwelcome reflected in his grey eyes. She returned his gaze, serene and undaunted, waiting for him to speak. Instinctively, his fingers clenched on his sword again, and he addressed her somewhat less courteously than he'd intended.

"Who are you, and why are you here? Wait," he held up a hand as she opened her mouth - her lovely, rosy, full-lipped mouth - to reply, "I do not know why I asked that. I know why you are here. You have come to fling yourself, as Gimli said, on me or one of my companions. Most likely our resident Elf, or I miss my guess." The young girl raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

"Thou miss thy guess by a fair distance," she remarked dryly. "By my troth, I come not to wreak havoc on thy hearts or privacy - indeed, I did not intend to be here at all. I seek the realm of Ivanhoe; for though I am fain a great admirer of thy country, and have been a visitor upon it's shores many a time, I seek a different adventure this day." Her unshakable composure slipped briefly, and a look of uncertainty crossed her lovely features. "I must have taken a wrong turn at Shakespeare Crossing, or something," she murmured, relinquishing for the moment the affected manner of speech that she'd been adopting.

She considered something for a moment, then looked back up at Aragorn, who was staring at her in something like disbelief that would never be so foolish as to morph into hope. "I don't suppose you could take me along with you until I find a way out of Middle Earth?" she asked pitifully.

Immediately, the faces of the Company, which had been slowly relaxing and gentling, closed off again, and they all eyed her with open hostility. "So!" Gandalf growled, "that is your game! Play innocent with us and infiltrate our company so that you can become a Tenth Walker!" The girl looked horrified, which, incidentally, made her even more beautiful.

"Oh, dear me, no!" she exclaimed. "I've no desire at all to go tromping around a war-infested land on an arduous and dangerous quest! I just want a little protection 'til I can make my escape to the other fandom-country." And she gazed 'round at them all with a beseeching look that fooled not even Pippin.

"As though you cannot fight better than all of us put together," Boromir said bitterly. So many small, delicate maidens had saved him and his friends from certain death so many times, and it justly stung his pride.

But the girl shook her head.

"Nay," she said with an embarrassed little smile. "I was not prepared to come to Arda at all. My goal was such a place where women do not fight, but are fought for by men. I have but little skill with weapons, and carry none with me."

There was in her musical voice a distinct note of regret, as if she longed for nothing more than to run amok, indiscriminately armed with various pointy objects. Aragorn took a moment to silently thank the Valar that she had none.

"Bide here a few minutes," he said sternly, "and I will discuss with my companions what to do with you."

"Alright," she answered agreeably, and sat down on the ground with little regard to dirt on her shining white gown. The man shot her a highly suspicious look and turned back to the rest of the company. They all huddled together, conversing in whispers while the Misplaced-Medieval!Sue sat and twiddled her thumbs and yawned and tried to hear what they were saying about her.

"Perhaps we should give her a chance," Boromir whispered, mollified by her apparent lack of warrior skills. Merry and Sam, at least, were inclined to agree, but Legolas shook his blond head frantically.

"Nay!" he hissed. "She will trick us all, and Aragorn or Frodo or I will awaken one night to find her squeezed into our bedrolls! Her ilk are as evil as they come, and she is surely no exception." And he glanced over his shoulder at the girl, looking uncharacteristically twitchy for an elf. Gimli, unpestered as he was by Sues, cast his friend an amused look.

"Not if you sleep standing up," he said gruffly, but the Elf only made a strangled sort of noise and shook his head again.

"Legolas has a point," Aragorn murmured, barely moving his lips. "And yet..." He too cast a look over at the Sue, who was plucking at bits of grass, looking bored in the most beautiful way possible. "I cannot help but think that she's telling the truth. And she's certainly not the usual kind," he added. "She has not yet flung herself at one of us."

"Perhaps she's a Crafty!Sue," Gandalf rumbled, and since the wizard was more knowledgeable about such things - or at least pretended to be - no one contradicted him.

"All the same," Pippin said, sneaking a look at the intruder in his turn and softening slightly, "she is a maiden, and we cannot leave her alone. She would be an easy target for the forces of darkness."

"She would be a liability if she came with us," Legolas retorted. He was determined to keep the Misplaced-Medieval-Possibly-Crafty!Sue out of the Company, or die trying. "We swore to protect the Ring Bearer, not every helpless damsel who crosses our path."

Aragorn, Boromir, and Merry glanced at the Elf reproachfully, and Gandalf fixed him with a deep look from under his shaggy eyebrows.

"I do not relish her presence anymore than you do," the Ranger said, "but even so, she is, as you say, a helpless damsel, and, if we are to trust her word, she is lost. Is it not our duty to protect her until she can return to her world, or wherever she chooses to go?"

"We did not-" Legolas began hotly, but Gandalf interrupted him.

"Let the Ring Bearer decide," the Istar declared. "For it is his journey that is at stake."

All eyes turned to Frodo, who stared at the ground, deep in thought. "It is our duty to take the Ring to Mordor and destroy it," he said at last, sounding tired. "That was the task given us. That is our purpose. But I cannot in good conscience let a lone maiden wander these dangerous lands unprotected." He looked up at all the faces surrounding him. "Besides," he added, "she's a Sue. She may yet prove useful when we run out of Athelas." And he stared pointedly at Legolas, who looked very aggravated indeed.

"It's not my fault," the elven prince complained. "Every time one of these fell creatures shows up-"

"-a different fell creature shows up and stabs you, poisons you, rearranges your pretty features, or skewers you through and through," Gimli finished. "We know. And I'm inclined to agree with Frodo - she may yet come in handy."

"I say we put it to the vote," Merry said, and this suggestion was agreeably received by all. Well, most. The look on Legolas' face was highly reminiscent of the stormy night on which the four hobbits had first arrived at Bree.

"Very well then, a vote it shall be," Gandalf said. "All in favor?" Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Boromir and the wizard himself all raised their hands, the latter fixing his gaze on Gimli and Aragorn. "Well?" he inquired. "Were you two not advocating her accompanying us just a few moments back?" After a moment, Aragorn slowly raised his hand, but the Dwarf just shrugged, and Legolas crossed his arms most decidedly.

"Still outnumbered," Gandalf said. "She goes with us."

"This will be the near death of our elf, if I'm not mistaken," Gimli muttered.

* * *

Nor was he. Within eight hours of the addition of the Sue, (who's name, incidentally, was Marian Rowana Gwendolyn Asphodel Montmorency,) they were ambushed by a band of warg-riders, and the Elf was terribly wounded by an Orc with a nasty penchant for swinging his scimitar with wild abandon. Stubbornly refusing to have Marian near him, he allowed Aragorn to patch him up to the best of his ability.

"I cannot think," Legolas said plaintively as he lay prone on his back, staring up at the stars that dotted the night sky, "why it is always me." He reached up a languid hand to wipe a trickle of blood from his mouth, but the Ranger sternly smacked the appendage and wiped it himself. The Elf winced, but remained obediently still as he continued vociferating his grievances.

"Everyone knows elves have superior reflexes," he stated mournfully. "Heightened senses, too. Mordor Orcs, such as these were, are clumsy creatures that I can usually take down with my eyes closed." He paused to cough up more blood, which his friend patiently mopped up before continuing to stitch up the deep gash in the Elf's side. "So why is it always me? Why do I get felled when these foul women come to call?"

"A power beyond our control takes hold," Aragorn answered gravely, "a power beyond that of Sauron or Saruman, even, or surely these women would be killed as well. Ours received nary a scratch."

He glanced up as the woman in question approached with three bowls of Sam's good stew expertly balanced on her slender arms. Legolas mouth pursed up, as though he had bitten into something bitter tasting, but Aragorn's firm hand on the shoulder that had not been mauled prevented his escape.

"How is he?" Marian inquired as she set the food on the mossy ground. She had learned pretty quickly that Legolas would not answer her, so she addressed the question to the man.

"He'll live," Aragorn answered shortly. Unwilling though he was to let her journey alone, he was still not happy with having a tenth member added to the quest. Past experience had taught him that they always ended up saving the day by highly unlikely and nauseating means, and the fact that this one had done nothing of the sort yet was entirely irrelevant. She'd get around to it eventually - the Ranger just knew it.

Marian, for her part, looked as mournful as Legolas had a moment ago. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, glancing at the wounded elf as she sat down. "It should have been me. If you hadn't pushed me out the way, you'd still be alright."

In truth, Legolas had deliberately pushed her towards a particularly large warg during the battle, somehow completely unaware of the _other_ warg - and it's madly cheerful, scimitar-wielding rider - that was stalking the girl from behind. Boromir slew the first warg before it could get to Marian, and then dispatched the warg that was enthusiastically masticating the Elf and beheaded the vile creature astride it. So the fact that the Misplaced-Medieval-Possibly-Crafty!Sue hadn't been slaughtered was not Legolas' fault.

Either Marian wasn't aware of this fact, or, once again, she just ignored it, much like the Elf did to her. It was kind of difficult to do so, however, when she was sitting beside him, rolling up his tattered sleeve to survey the lacerations that ran the length of his arm. She winced at the sight of them and looked him in the eyes.

"May I tend these?" she inquired. Aragorn glanced quickly at Legolas, who stared at the girl, completely nonplussed. Usually the invading Sues flung themselves on his battered body, wailing and weeping diamond-like tears that healed him instantly. The fact that this one had actually _asked_ to help him threw him for the proverbial loop.

"Very- Very well," he managed. Disregarding his stiff tone, Marian picked up one of the soft, semi-clean cloths that the man had laid out and dipped it in the bowl of boiled Athelas, laying it along the slashed up arm of the Elf. Legolas watched her like a mouse would watch a lurking cat from the safety of its hole.

"Can you not just sing and heal me?" he asked scathingly. Aragorn glanced at him reprovingly, but the girl merely chuckled quietly, like a brook burbling over smooth stones. Legolas clenched his teeth at the pretty sound.

"I don't know," she said frankly. "I've never tried." She waited a few moments, then peeled up the bloodied cloth and replaced it with a fresh one. After a moment, she became aware of the fact that the two denizens of Middle Earth were just staring at her. "What?" she asked, unnerved.

Aragorn gave his head a brief shake and returned to his task of tending the injured elf, who was still goggling at Marian in disbelief. "You really aren't the typical Sue, are you?" the man said. Marian tilted her head, her fabulous chestnut falling over her shoulder like a shiny waterfall of luscious brown.

"I suppose not," she mused. "I never really thought about it." She glanced between her two companions and smiled at their expressions. "I'm really not here to make love to either of you," she assured them. "I took a wrong turn on my way to Ivanhoe and wound up in Middle Earth. That's all." Gracefully rising to her feet, she turned and floated away over the dew-dampened ground.

* * *

And so it continued for several days. The Nine Walkers continued their vitally important quest, and Marian Rowana Gwendolyn Asphodel Montmorency continued to tag along with them on her own quest to find a portal to a different fandom world. Gradually, as she displayed no signs of exhibiting typical Sueness, the questers warmed up to her, even considering her society enjoyable after a time. She didn't seem eager to make a name for herself, ("Not that she needs any more names," Sam muttered,) which further endeared her to them.

All except Legolas. The Elf, permanently traumatized from his myriad past experiences with the Sues, never ceased to suspect Marian of some ulterior motive of thoroughly malignant intent. He was convinced that she intended to corner him some dark night and force him to kiss her, and he spent most days imbibing river water heavily tainted with wild garlic, which, unsurprisingly, rendered him unpopular around the camp when they stopped for rests. Miffed at the rest of his companions for falling under the Sue's spell - which, to his keen eyes, was so clearly malicious and evil - he started talking to himself, muttering under his breath as he swigged copious amounts of the pungent water. Aragorn began to worry for his friend's sanity, and one evening he approached their leader about it.

"Gandalf," he murmured, watching with a troubled eye as Legolas wandered around the perimeter of the camp, muttering and imbibing, "I am concerned for our elf's mental state. He's driving himself to distraction with these fantasies and fears he's built up about Marian." The wizard peered at the Elf in question, making a low, noncommittal noise in his throat.

"He'll recover," he said quietly. "He always does. And one can't quite blame him for being this way, considering his past." The man grudgingly nodded in agreement.

"But," he said, "he doesn't usually act like this."

"He's taking the precautions he deems necessary," came the calm reply. Aragorn stared at him.

"Gandalf," he said incredulously, "he is drinking essence of wild garlic. He talks and mumbles to himself almost incessantly. He crouches in the shadows and twists his hair. _He is drinking essence of wild garlic._ I have always respected your council, but to deem this as 'taking the precautions he deems necessary'? I am assailed by a sudden doubt."

"Then suddenly assail it right back," the wizard said sternly. "All will be well in the end. You'll see."

* * *

And it almost was. Eight days after joining the travelers, Marian's hoped-for portal finally arrived. As the Company was settling down for a rest, (with the exception of Legolas, who was still mumbling to himself and gulping his garlic water and trying to walk through the side of a mountain,) a large sphere of crackling blue energy conveniently appeared out of thin air and opened in the center, revealing a forest and a large stone castle that appeared to be under siege.

It was also on fire.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and gawked at it, save for Marian, who leaped up with a small shriek. (Legolas turned his head to look, slipped on a bit of loose gravel, and rolled down a short incline. It went unnoticed by everyone else.)

"Now!" the Misplaced-Medieval-Probably-Not-Crafty!Sue cried, clapping her hands together. "It is here! I must go!" Running to Aragorn, she gave him a hug, then did the same to Boromir, Gandalf, and a startled Gimli. All four hobbits got a hug together, and even Bill the pony got a kiss on the nose. As the portal popped and crackled patiently, Marian hurried over to Legolas, who had just struggled up the incline, looking somewhat the worse for wear.

"I just want you to know," she said, cheerfully extending a slender hand, "I have never, ever liked you, and watching you suffer and descend into madness this week past has been a genuine pleasure."

The Elf stared at her, shocked, as did everyone else. Then, suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed, and Aragorn relaxed at the normalcy of the sound.

"That's alright," the immortal prince said, shaking Marian's hand warmly. "I never liked you either. I tried to kill you, you know." The maiden grinned at him, revealing perfect white teeth.

"I know."

With one last wave, she lifted her still-immaculate skirt and stepped through the portal, her chestnut hair swaying hypnotically. Through the center of the glowing sphere, they watched as she approached a man, clad in green, who was rapidly firing arrows towards the blazing castle. Then the portal popped and began to contract, smaller and smaller. Legolas turned towards Aragorn, no longer looking so crazed.

"I told you she was evil," he said smugly. Pause. "But at least she wasn't madly in love with one of us. And now that she's gone, I will, I hope, regain my competency in battle."

As he spoke, an arrow flew through the portal just before it closed and thwacked through the Elf's shoulder.

* * *

 **Because what is a parody without a little Legolas-whump? xD Hope you enjoyed it, and all reviewers get a hug from their favorite LotR character! :D**


End file.
